


Green Does Not Look So Good On You

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Series: Thranduil/Reader Stories [13]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tumblr prompt: Imagine Thranduil being jealous when you talk to the other elf men and finally plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner." I really love your recent jealous Thranduil fic, and I think that you'll do a great job in writing this one, too! Thank you! :) xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Does Not Look So Good On You

Gaelon, Faluon and Nodon have been some of your closest friends for centuries. You went through training together when the guard held a mass - recruitment (as per the new King's orders) and have fought side by side ever since. You have risen through the ranks together until now, when you have been promoted higher than your friends.  

You have recently taken seat on the King's war council, though in times of peace it's more of a guard training committee. When you rose there was one other place to be filled. You had assumed, along with the vast majority of others, that one of your friends would take the seat. After all, they were a the best that the Greenwood had to offer.

You had been mistaken.

The seat was taken by Mindonor,  a very handsome elf who had no idea what he was doing. He spent the duration of the meetings examining his nails or the cuffs of his sleeves, occasionally throwing in a pointless piece of advice. The more seasoned council members have made complaints to the King, but he point blank refuses to move Mindonor from his seat.

“It’s ridiculous!” you huff, scowling at your dinner. “He has no idea what he’s doing!”

“He must have some.” Gaelon tries to reason. “If he didn’t he wouldn’t have been chosen.”

“No one knows where he’s come from!” You insist. “He has no skill with a dagger or a sword, couldn’t tell you how to hold a bow and can’t tell the difference between a cuirass and a rerebrace!”

Nodon reaches across the table to pat your hand. “I understand your frustration,” he assures you, “but it’s the New Year! Don’t scowl at your food so!”

“You could slay an Orc with that look!” Faluon agrees, motioning for a passing maid to refill your wineglass. “Have some more to drink. That will lighten your spirits!”

The wine is good and it does ease your anger a little, and you find the spirit to dance with your friends later in the evening. “Don’t look too quickly,” Faluon says as you pass each other, “but the King is certainly in a chipper mood tonight.”

On a turn you manage to catch a glimpse of your sour-faced monarch. “Indeed he does. I can’t fathom what has him in such a mood, though I confess I rarely see him smile.”

Indeed, you aren’t the only ones to notice. By the end of the night almost everyone that you’ve danced with has commented on it, and a fair few besides that.

“I think it best that I retire.” you sigh, setting another empty goblet down on the table.

“Ah, don’t say that the king’s foul mood has gotten to you!” Gaelon laughs, possibly a little too loudly.

“I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon!” you laugh. “I’d rather not miss it.” Gaelon and Faluon grumble amongst themselves, but Nodon stands and offers you his arm.

“Let me walk you home.” he insists. “I’m on a patrol tomorrow and should rest myself.” you take his arm and allow yourself to be escorted away from the main festivities and the king’s foul mood. “I’ll take my leave of you.” Nodor smiles as you reach your door. “Until the morning, mellonamin.” he kisses your knuckles before turning and walking away down the corridor.

X

The following afternoon sees you hurrying towards the council room, wondering if you’re going to be late. You slept for longer than you meant to and everything seems to be taking longer. However you find that you may be late, but at least you’ve turned up.

There are three other people in the council room, the King included. “‘Quel amrun.” you greet, nodding to them and stepping inside the room. You head for your seat, but one of the other council members waves you forwards.

“No point in sitting all the way down there!” she laughs. “It seems not many people will be present today.”

“I can’t see how some will be missed.” You smile thinly, taking a seat.

“Indeed!” the other lady laughs. “Perhaps they should be replaced!”

She means it lightly, but the Lord next to her takes it more seriously. “Aye. What about that one you danced with last night?” he asks you. “The one who escorted you home.”

“Nodon.” you enlighten him.

“Yes, him. I saw him heading out with a patrol at first light. That’s the sort of dedication we need.”

“We might need dedication,” the King says slowly, shooting you an unreadable look, “but we don’t want to distract Lady Y/N.”

“Distract me?” you laugh, though it sounds a little uneasy even to your ears.

“I’ve been side by side with Nodon for the last seven hundred years. Not once have I been distracted by him.”

“It certainly seemed that way last night.”

You fight of a blush at the King’s insinuation, and try to keep the offence from your voice. “I assure you, I don’t know what you mean.”

The King smirks and the matter drops. The other lady makes quick work of changing the topic, and you silently thank her for that. You’d hate the King (or anyone for that matter) to get the wrong idea about you and one of your friends. However the topic inevitably comes back to replacements.

“What about Lord Gaelon?” the Lord suggest. “I’ve seen him display great skill with a bow.”

The King practically hisses in disgust. “Lord Gaelon has about as much skill with a bow as an orc.”

“King Thranduil!” you cry in horror. “How can you criticize him so?”

“As you are so… close to him I would not expect you to see a fault with him.” the King replies tartly. “But from my perspective there is a great deal of room for improvement.”

“Improvement?” you laugh. “Gaelon has only ever received greater praise and higher marks than I ever have! Or would you say that I have a great deal of improving to do, in which case why would I be sat here? Need I remind you that I am here only because you requested it of me!”

The King’s expression doesn’t once shift from ‘unimpressed’. In fact, he looks as though he’s stopped listening to you altogether. You could wring his neck for it. “I suppose you would suggest your third friend for a seat here too.”

“Yes, I would, as he is the only one that can fight so well in complete darkness! But I would wager you have more foul things to say about him, and I most certainly will not stand for it.” you rise swiftly to your feet and shoot him the most disgusted look you can muster in the face of your King. “Good day.” you turn on your heel and march from the room, making a bee-line towards the training ground. Taking your anger out on a training dummy is the only thing that will stop you from saying something you shouldn't.

The King's harsh words towards you friends, and his insinuations towards you, hurts more than it should. Not only is he your king, and you therefore seek his approval along with the rest of the population,  but you have always tried hard to gain his approval. You crave it more than most, for your heart has always held a soft spot for him. Whilst you are under no illusions of your destined place in society (that is to say: bottom of those considered vaguely important) you still strive to please him. To no avail, it would seem.

“You seem even angrier than the King did yesterday.” Gaelon observes as he sets up your training dummy.

“It would be best if you didn’t ask.” you sigh, unsheathing your sword and taking up your stance. “Will you spot me?”

Gaelon nods, taking a step back. “Since when do you need to be spotted? You haven’t missed a step in a hundred years.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” you growl, taking a swing at the dummy. “And I don’t usually fight when I’m angry.”  
Gaelon agrees and proceeds to spot you for the next two hours, though he has little feedback for you. The session only comes to an end when a crouching turn has you facing the door, and the displeased face of the King comes into view. With a sigh and an apologetic smile at Gaelon, you finish your training and hurry to the King. “Is something the matter, Heruamin?”you ask curtly.

The king nods towards Gaelon. “After I have stated his lack of talent, you would still seek advice from him?”

“With all due respect, I know that his skills are better than what you say. I would rather seek aid from him than from anyone else.”

Thranduil frowns. “My word means so little to you?”

“Yes, when you’re insulting my friends.” You return his frown. “You know so little of them but you would say so many foul things about them. Why?”

Thranduil pauses. You see an expression flicker across his face that brings you both surprise and realisation.

“You’re jealous?” You don’t know whether to laugh or not.

The King looks a little sheepish, but he is definitely tinted green.

“Heruamin, have you prevented my friends from advancing because you’re jealous?”

“You would accuse me of jealousy and not see why, when three able and talented and also single elves hold your company every day, but the only time I can see a rare beauty such as yourself is in a meeting?”

Your heart is fluttering in your chest and your stomach is doing somersaults, but you try to retain a neutral expression. “That is by no fault but your own.”

Thranduil inclines your head. “Would you allow me to rectify that?”   
“What would you propose?”

“That your friends be brought before the council and one of them chosen for a seat, and that you might join me for dinner this evening.”

A small smile graces your features. “Then perhaps I can help you overcome this jealousy.”

 

 


End file.
